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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188173">These Foolish Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorciereMystique/pseuds/SorciereMystique'>SorciereMystique</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, F/M, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, No Smut, ObiTine Week, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Romantic Fluff, Teen Romance, Teenage Dorks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:08:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorciereMystique/pseuds/SorciereMystique</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucking in little Korkie, who is actually her son by Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze opens her treasured jewelry box and fingers her memory stone, which brings back sweet memories of her romance with Korkie's father. A drabble collection with very short chapters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitaminanime/gifts">vitaminanime</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title is from the old song, "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)." This is a collection of short drabbles. </p><p>Update: If you enjoyed this story, please be sure to check out vitaminanime’s return gift story, “Wait for the Dawn.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Satine gazed on the sleeping face of her little boy. Korkie looked so young like this, but he also looked even more like his father. His sleep-tousled ginger-blond hair was the same color and texture as his father’s, and aside from his nose Korkie had mostly his father’s features, minus the cleft chin. He had the Kryze nose, that was for sure. He looked like a perfect blend of his parents. As much as Satine missed her Ben, it was a comfort to have their son with her. Besides, she had her memories.</p><p>Satine got up and brought down a little jewelry box from a high shelf. Someday, when Korkie was older, she would share her treasures with him. She gently opened the box and pulled out a smooth river stone. Ben said it was a memory stone, like the one that Master Qui-Gon had given him.</p><p>“You embed all your memories into the stone. I survived an attempted mind-wipe because of mine.”</p><p>The pressed wildflowers still smelled of spring, the once-bright colors softened to a dreamy pastel, the green leaves deeper in their color, like a patina on bronze. Someday, when Korkie was older, she would tell him many things about his father and how much his parents loved each other, but some memories were best kept private. This light blue flower was from the day she kissed Ben for the first time, surprising him when he was washing in the river. He stood dripping with his back to the sun, looking like a painting of a god. That fern was from the entrance of the cave where Korkie was conceived.</p><p>She sat back down to look at Korkie’s sleeping face as she went through her memories. Even if she never saw Ben again or if either of them were killed, she would always have her memories.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sudden Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Satine looked up at the beautiful blue sky and stretched. What a day to be alive! “Good morning. Isn’t it just gorgeous weather? We never get such nice weather around Sundari.” <em>Start the day off right, be pleasant, make small talk.</em> Not like yesterday, when that <em>di’kut</em> boy lured her into an argument way too early in the morning, casting a pall over the entire rest of the day.</p><p>“It’s going to rain.” Master Qui-Gon squinted at the sky. “I can feel it in my joints.”</p><p>The <em>jetii</em> boy came out into the morning light, looking grumpy and sleepy. He was not a natural morning person. On the other hand, most teenagers were not. Satine herself was not. “I believe it if you say so, Master, but might your joints ache more from carrying all that luggage and sitting in the lotus position trying to build the campfire?”</p><p>Was that a dig at her, for having too much luggage? Or for not doing enough to help set up camp? If so, that was just petty and rude. She hardly had any luggage for a woman of her position. Just because he had none at all.</p><p>It was not wise to stay at one campsite for too long. As they were walking, a large black bird swooped down with a loud “Caw!” and attacked the padawan. His eyes barely showed any sign of the panic that would be normal in this situation as a sharp beak and claws tore into the ginger brush cut. The boy hardly made a sound, even though the attack drew blood. Not very much blood, of course, but just enough to look dramatic.</p><p>The boy seemed to ignore it completely. “Are you sure you’re all right? You know, you’re bleeding.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. You’re not offering to kiss it better, are you?” Was he smirking? Satine felt her cheeks flush. The next thing she knew, a satisfyingly loud “Slap!” resounded through the wilderness. Trees seemed to rustle their leaves in merriment. Satine had not really meant to strike him; violence was against her beliefs. He deserved what he got but now he would be able to tease her about being a violent pacifist.</p><p>The <em>jetii</em> <em>di’kut</em> was smiling. He liked being struck. That thought made her feel strangely dirty. How creepy and annoying. He was already bleeding and now she had slapped him, like she had been tempted to do almost from the start. If he said anything along the lines of “you slap hard for a girl” or “you’re pretty when you’re angry” she would probably throttle him. Fortunately for him, he did no such thing as it started to rain all of a sudden.</p><p>“Here, take my cloak.” He shrugged his cloak off and draped it over Satine’s shoulders as he ran after Master Qui-Gon and snuggled into the older man’s cloak with him, struggling to keep up with his master’s long strides.</p><p>Satine felt a pang of jealousy toward the older man at being so close to the boy who had been obscenely satisfying to slap. <em>Kriff you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was suddenly attacked by a crow for seemingly no reason last summer. Here is my attempt to get some benefit from that experience.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mess Duty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed chipper as he washed the tubers before starting to peel them with his field knife. His practiced hands made quick work of the small pile of root vegetables.</p><p>“I see you know what you’re doing.” Satine set down the jug of water she had fetched and sat down for a moment before setting about boiling out the impurities.</p><p>“My master is not a good cook. Once when his best friend—” here he stopped to smirk, suggesting what sort of best friend this was—" had a bad case of Dagoban fever when I was still a new padawan, so thirteen years old, and my master tried to make a stew for all three of us. He tossed anything and everything he could find into the pot, tomatoes, raisins, lemons, tofu, rice crackers, nuna legs, sweet muja fruit yoghurt, whatever, on the theory that it all blends together inside our stomachs anyway. He called it brine stew. Master Tahl was back on her feet the very next day, saying she couldn’t afford to be too ill to cook. She’s the one who taught me.” Obi-Wan so rarely volunteered these little glimpses into his usual life that Satine could not help but be intrigued.</p><p>His eyes sparkled and he was smiling as he told the story. He was actually rather charming from a certain point of view, if he wanted to be. He was also quite distracted as he wielded a sharp knife. “Ow!”</p><p>He held his hand out to inspect the damage. There was a small cut at the base of his left thumb. Satine took his hand without really thinking about it, kissed the wound, and sang softly to him, the way she often did for Bo-Katan when her little sister had a boo-boo.</p><p>As soon as she remembered whose hand it was, she blushed, but was even more alarmed when the cut seemed to mend itself in just a few minutes. Obi-Wan Kenobi had a look of intense concentration on his face until he finished whatever he was doing with his hand. Then he smiled at her. “Thank you. You helped calm and center me enough to do a little Force-healing.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My dad actually made something he called "brine stew" when I was little. He only got away with it once. After I grew up and left home he mastered chop suey, his signature dish. <br/>Qui-Gon is space dad. I headcanon that Obi-Wan is a pretty good cook.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Laundry Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-Wan gathered up his dirty clothes to go wash as best he could in the river. The three of them were each responsible for their own laundry. He found a likely spot and sat down. Birds chirped and he could hear the babbling brook. It was peaceful here. So peaceful that he could almost forget being on the run with a rather annoying young duchess.</p><p>Obi-Wan sang softly to himself as he beat his dirty tunic with a stone in the river, in rather high spirits. He stopped occasionally to flick his padawan braid out of the way, then stopped cold. Were those? Yes, unmistakably. He held up the offending garment at arm’s length, staring at the pattern of the lace on a pair of ladies’ underwear. They must have gotten mixed into his laundry bag somehow.</p><p>Satine spotted him, strode over, her cheeks flushed red, and snatched them out of his hands. “Those are mine.”</p><p>“Yes, I noticed.” His cheeks were flushed the same color as hers, while the grin he was suppressing was all his own.</p><p>“Di’kut,” Satine used her free hand to slap him on the cheek for that look. Cheeky bastard.</p><p>He was still grinning. “I thought you were a pacifist.”</p><p>Satine scowled at him and was about to march off with her favorite pair of lace-trimmed underwear when he called after her, “I hope your face doesn’t get stuck like that. That would be a real pity.”</p><p>Was he trying to suggest that she was pretty? Satine suppressed a smirk at this thought. Really he was the pretty one. Wait, what? Did she really think that? Of course she did. It was true, after all, from all points of view, especially hers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the original core of this fic. Thank you to vitaminanime for inspiring me to write this scene in the comments of my fic "Up Close and Personal," Part 3 of my AU series "Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Chosen One." It's been fun to imagine how I would have reacted as a teenager to write Satine, since teenage Satine is based very blatantly on teenage me. For the record I never got close enough to boys to slap them twenty years ago, but I (probably) would have wanted to, lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Mirdala</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why did you let that stathas go? Those things are dangerous. Venomous fangs, long scaly body that’ll wrap around you and crush you.” Satine stood with her arms crossed, but really she was scared. He may be a professional and a good fighter, but he did not know the wildlife like she did. She felt sore and a bit bloated, not in good condition to fight off hazardous wild reptiles.</p><p>“If we don’t bother it, it won’t bother us. Right, Master?” Obi-Wan also stood with his arms crossed. “I thought you didn’t like bloodshed, even in self-defense.”</p><p>“That creature is a non-sentient pest. It’s not one of my people.” Satine could not tell whether Obi-Wan was being sarcastic or stupid.</p><p>“If it comes back to bite you, why don’t you deal with it then, since you’re the one who wants it dead.”</p><p>“Excuse me? The whole reason you’re here is to protect me. That includes wild animals. Or are you saying you can’t fight it? Any Mandalorian man who took a bodyguard job could.” Satine could not believe this.</p><p>“Fine. You want me to go looking for it then.” Obi-Wan did not appreciate the insinuation that he was inferior as a protector. He had not even seen the serpent, but what he had felt in the Force did not seem dangerous. Satine seemed to have gotten up on the wrong side of her sleeping bag today. He was so busy rolling his eyes at her that he tripped on a tree root and nearly fell on his face, only avoiding this fate by grabbing the tree, looking as if locked in a fond embrace.</p><p>“Why do I bother with so-called Jedi protectors when you’re just going to be a clumsy <em>di’kut</em>.” Satine grabbed the little nerftail at the back of his head and pulled him upright. An idiot with stupid hair, who was going to get himself killed in a stupid manner.</p><p>Clumsy. <em>Oafy-Wan! Too clumsy to be a real Jedi! No master will want you, hahaha! </em> Obi-Wan heard Bruck Chun’s voice in his memory. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself. His eyes betrayed his anger, although the rest of him seemed calm. Why was she like this today? They had not had any stupid fights like this yesterday. Maybe five days ago she had been a little grumpy, but not like this for about twenty-five or thirty days. Oh. A light went on inside his head.</p><p>“It’s all right, I think I understand. It’s just that part of your cycle, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan looked at her with an innocent expression twinged with pity.</p><p>“I can’t believe this! You dismiss my concerns about a dangerous animal because you think I’m irrational and hormonal? Di’kut.” Satine stormed off to go find that stathas herself before it found them.</p><p>Obi-Wan stood there, puzzled, until he noticed his master standing beside him. “Obi-Wan. I thought I told you, never tell a woman you think her opinion is based on her hormones, even if it’s probably objectively true. I learned that the hard way with Tahl. She felt that her intelligence was being questioned.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean it like that.” Obi-Wan looked at his master’s face, horrified. “It’s just that, I noticed that it’s a regular pattern. I thought she might want to know why she feels out of sorts, so that she’ll feel better.” Obi-Wan shrugged.</p><p>“It’s not your place, Padawan.”</p><p>Later that evening, once they had set up camp in the woods just outside a village, Satine sat down next to the fire and clutched her knees to her chest, her face pale and sweaty, clearly in pain. It was cold and it felt like it was going to rain. Great. This was going to be a lovely evening.</p><p>Eventually Satine got up, disappeared into the bushes that they had designated their fresher, and began cursing under her breath.</p><p>Obi-Wan heard her, but did not guess what had her so upset. It was Qui-Gon who glanced over her supplies and frowned. Oh dear. “Obi-Wan, this box is empty. I think that’s a big problem for our Duchess. Her plight is normal and there’s not much we can do. One of us will have to go into the village and get some more, since she’ll be recognized. I think you should go, because you offended her earlier today. I can make her a cup of ginger tea.”</p><p>Obi-Wan received a small paper box from his master. As soon as he read the product name he blanched. This was too embarrassing. <em>Kote</em> brand super-absorbent tampons? Why did <em>he</em> have to go get these?</p><p>Obi-Wan pulled his hood up against the threat of rain and recognition as a Jedi with a padawan braid, then set out on his mortifying mission.</p><p>Aha, here was a likely shop. Simple remedies and daily goods were arranged neatly in a small store with an old lady minding the shop. Obi-Wan did not ask for help; that would be too embarrassing. How would he explain this, anyway? He certainly did not have the Mando’a vocabulary to discuss feminine hygiene products.</p><p>Once he finally found the exact same product, he reluctantly brought it to the old lady. He had half hoped not to find it, but he knew Satine would be distressed. He swallowed hard and handed over the box.</p><p>The old lady smiled. “For your <em>cyare</em>?”</p><p>Obi-Wan opened his mouth to deny that Satine was his girlfriend, but thought better of it. Arguing semantics would not be in their interest. He nodded nervously.</p><p>“Ah. You’re <em>mirdala</em> to be such a gentleman, at such a young age. She’s a lucky girl.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You’re clever.” She was smiling even wider, revealing the metal parts of the bridgework in her teeth.</p><p>Obi-Wan thanked her in a whisper and rushed out of there into the chilly drizzle, almost forgetting his change. Satine never said he was clever, so he had not known the word. He wondered if she would be offended that he had taken the empty box, without telling her, to help him look for the right product. Surely that was just as embarrassing for her as it was for him. On the other hand, she would be even more upset if he got the wrong product.</p><p>When he got back to their camp and found Satine, she was doubled over in pain, worse than he had ever seen any of the girls in his junior padawan classes. On the other hand, maybe they simply missed school if it got too debilitating. How did they endure going through that on a regular basis? He remembered Master Tahl telling him that everyone’s body was a little different, even among individuals of the same species.</p><p>“Satine? I got you a new pack of these. You were out.” He looked away as he handed her the box, but he did hear the attempted chuckle.</p><p>“Thank you. Wow, you’re <em>mirdala</em>. This is the right one. And you were right this morning. I <em>was</em> grumpy and rude. I was afraid that stathas would bite you.” She reached out for him, took hold of his offered hand, and squeezed.</p><p>“That’s all right. I’m a Jedi, I can handle anything you need.” He may have failed to kill the stathas but thanks to his master, he had not failed her where it mattered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the rainy night tampon run of mercy that Obi-Wan will do but Anakin is clueless about. Suggested by "Mouths of Babes" by vitaminanime.</p><p>Kote is the Mando'a word for glory, but it sounds similar to a certain brand name for this type of product. I am not in the US and not from there, but do have relatives there so I have heard of it.</p><p>I realize that a variety of people menstruate. Satine has terrible cramps here, like many teenagers do. Her PMS combined with her temperament and cultural heritage make her quite a terror. Obi-Wan digs that. He likes his ladies a little scary.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Mother’s Scarf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“And that’s another thing. We Mandalorians value our families more than almost anything else. But you </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">jetiise </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">don’t have any family. That’s unnatural and unhealthy, in my opinion.” Satine could debate indefatigably even while climbing steep, rocky hillsides.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>
    <span class="s3">Master Qui-Gon is my family. It’s not true that we don’t have families at all. </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">Obi-Wan was getting the hang of keeping his mouth shut. He frowned slightly when he caught a whiff of pity from her. She felt sorry for him because she thought he didn’t have any family. How wrong-headed and insulting of an assumption to make. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I still remember my mother, even though she was killed when I was still little. This scarf I’m wearing belonged to her.” Satine continued. The scarf in question was not exactly to Obi-Wan’s taste, being a semi-floral downright paisley affair in ocher and khaki green. She had tied it under her chin as a kerchief, trying to protect her fair complexion from the sun. It did nothing for her, in fact it actively clashed with her coloring, not to mention the rest of her clothes. There was a reason she tended to wear blue, after all.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Is that so.” Obi-Wan did not think it prudent to say much beyond that. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">As they were climbing they were pummeled by a strong burst of wind that blew Satine’s scarf off of her head. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Satine gave a little cry of horror. Obi-Wan heard her cry, held out his hand, and tried to summon the scarf back with what was arguably a frivolous use of the Force. He leaned back to do it, holding on at a precarious angle. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Just when he got the scarf in hand, a </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">vhe’viin</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2"> seemed to startle at something and clambered up the steep mountainside, sending the rocks higher up tumbling down onto Obi-Wan. The rodent flicked its tail, sending more rocks tumbling, adding insult to injury, and disappeared. The rocks came tumbling down, colliding with bigger rocks, until the tumbling rocks took Obi-Wan down with them. Satine screamed.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Master Qui-Gon leaped down to where the boy had fallen. Satine gulped. She did not have the Force to help her jump like that. Instead, she waited until the </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">jetiise</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2"> were out of the way before clambering down. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Poor Obi-Wan was buried in rocks of all sizes. Master Qui-Gon had already begun to clear them, often using the Force to lift the heavier ones. He did not say much, but the look of sad concentration on his face was something that Satine would have expected from her own father. Oh. Satine immediately set to work digging Obi-Wan out, hardly noticing the dust that lodged itself under her nails or the sharp rocks and twigs cutting her hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">She got his arm free first. He still had his fist clenched around the scarf. This boy had remained focused on his self-imposed mission just for her. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Once they got him free, Master Qui-Gon lifted up his padawan and carried him sideways, like a bride, to a safe spot under a towering tree. He said nothing when Satine got down onto the ground, sitting on her haunches, and gently placed Obi-Wan’s head onto her lap. He had hit his head, apparently. Her hand began to stroke his slightly-overgrown padawan cut, then she started to hum what sounded to Master Qui-Gon like a lullaby. It was not hard to imagine that her mother had done this for her when she was younger.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Master Qui-Gon felt in the Force when Obi-Wan came to, and when he was finished with his healing trance, but said nothing as the boy pretended to still be unconscious. Satine must have known, but she was happy to pretend to be fooled as she continued stroking his hair and singing. What an adorably ridiculous pair they made. Master Qui-Gon had to smile.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the incident with the rocks referenced in my fic “Up Close and Personal,” Part 3 of my AU series “Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Chosen One.”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Riders on the Run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We can’t stay in this town any longer. We have to go. I think we should split up. Obi-Wan, take the Duchess on one of the speederbikes and get her away from here as fast as you can. I’ll buy you time and rejoin you later.”</p><p>“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan jumped onto the stolen speederbike, then turned around to grab the Duchess’ hand to help her up onto the seat. He was expecting her to slap away his hand and refuse his help, but apparently the danger of the situation won out and she settled behind him onto the seat without complaint.</p><p>Satine considered logistics for a moment. She could hold onto the seat ledge, but it would be much more secure to hold onto Obi-Wan himself. She wrapped her arms around his waist and scooted closer, until her chest was touching the middle of his back. Wow. What was this strange feeling? Did he have static electricity today, or was that electric charge surging through her body something of a different nature? Her heart was pounding, but she could feel his heartbeat, too, almost as fast as hers.</p><p>“You didn’t have to grab me so tight.” She could not see his face, which had turned a dramatic crimson. Surely she would feel his temperature, those icy fingers up and down his spine while he simultaneously felt warm all over, as if he had been captured on a hostile planet and immolated. It felt pleasantly fatal.</p><p>“I don’t want to fall off and die. I don’t know yet how good of a speederbike pilot you are.” She brought her face even closer. It would have been better if they had helmets, but they did not, so her best bet was to hope he knew a Jedi trick for that.</p><p>Obi-Wan fired up the engine and they took off, speeding through city streets, quieter suburbs, dirt roads by farms, and finally into the forest. Satine stayed close the entire time, breathing in adrenaline and something else. When they had been in the town, they had had access to real freshers; perhaps she was smelling his shampoo. The nerftail was right in her face, across her cheek, the tip of it tickling her nose. Whatever it was, she found it maddeningly pleasing.</p><p>Once they reached the forest, he stopped the speederbike and waited for her to hop off first. “Did I pass muster, milady?” He was back to smirking, which was too bad, because he had felt warm and strong and he smelled good. She wanted to rest her chin on his shoulder or bury her face in the soft spikes of his hair, to drink in his comforting presence, but that was inappropriate. <em>Steady, Satine. That’s just the adrenaline talking.</em></p><p>“I suppose so. Hey, stop calling me that. If anyone hears you our cover will be blown.” Satine cocked an eyebrow. She definitely did not want him to get killed, and not just because she needed him for her own survival.</p><p>“All right, point taken. Maybe we could invent code names.” He was smiling like a youngling who had just found a particularly interesting insect.</p><p>“I’m Tine, then. Childhood nickname. I’ll call you Ben.”</p><p>“Ben? All right. What does it mean?”</p><p>“I’m not going to tell you.” She smirked at him for a change, eyes sparkling mischievously. If he knew what it meant, he would be embarrassed or laugh at her, the latter being infinitely worse. <em>It means</em> <em>“mine</em>.<em>”</em> He was her bodyguard, yes, but he felt <em>hers</em> in general, although this thought confused her.</p><p>“All right, Tine.” He tried out her old childhood nickname.</p><p>Hearing him instead of Bo-Katan use her old childhood nickname was jarring, to say the least, but also rather nice. Satine smiled to herself as she remembered his scent, the way his tunic, his body felt in her arms. Here was one battle she was already well on her way to losing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have happy memories of riding on the back of my university sort-of boyfriend's bicycle (I can't ride), which informed this episode. </p><p>This takes place not long before the events of "Up Close and Personal," Part 3 of my AU series "Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Chosen One."</p><p>Ben as a corruption of “be’ni,” literally “of me” and therefore “mine,” is an etymological theory I’ve seen in other fics and liked.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Battle Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I had it under control, Tine.” Ben winced as Satine applied disinfectant to his wound. The blaster bolt had only grazed his shoulder, but the impact had been enough to draw some blood.</p><p>“Really? You could have fooled me.” Satine rolled her eyes as she loosened his tunic some more before applying the bacta. “Wow. You have a lot of scars, don’t you. You’ve been in a lot of battles for a peacekeeper.”</p><p>“Not all of them are battle scars. The one curving across my left shoulder is from a mistake I made during lightsaber training.”</p><p>“What about this ring around your neck? I’ve never seen a scar like that. It looks like a guideline to cut along.”</p><p>Obi-Wan winced again, suddenly regretting his master’s absence. As much as Satine was willing to rough it and get dirty, she was still a privileged duchess. She probably genuinely would not know.</p><p>“Slave collar.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought slavery was illegal in the Republic.”</p><p>“It is. I was enslaved illegally for a brief period in the mines on Bandomeer. Master Qui-Gon got me out of that nightmare.” He decided not to go into any more detail than that. Let her think his master had been heroic. She needed to trust Master Qui-Gon for this mission, not get angry about the past on his behalf. He was working on letting go of his anger, and having her angry would jeopardize his progress.</p><p>“What about this one? It looks like a deliberate mark.” Satine had found the tiny flower with five petals nestled into the hollow of his collarbone.</p><p>“It is. It’s the symbol of the Youngs, the guerrilla child army of the civil war on Melida/ Daan. I spent a year as part of the leadership. It was my comrade Cerasi who made this mark for me, when I declared my intention to stay and join their war when my master left to go on another mission. She died in my arms and our other comrades blamed me for failing to save her.”</p><p>His expression clouded over. Satine recognized that look. She had seen it on her father’s face when he lost a warrior <em>vod</em> in battle, especially when it was his decisions as a commander that cost lives. She had known about Obi-Wan’s year in that war, but not much context. He had not fought it as a <em>jetii,</em> then, and certainly not out of bloodlust. He had been misguided, yes, because violence was not the answer, but he had also been painfully sincere.</p><p>“Let me rub bacta on all of them. You’ve been through so much.” She suppressed the desire to imagine what he would look like in full <em>beskar’gam</em>, with her clan sigil, as her consort. He would probably suit it, given what she knew of his exploits.</p><p>He smiled tentatively. This must be how she showed that she cared. She was like Cerasi and even Siri in so many ways. Obi-Wan realized in that moment that he had a weakness for tough, principled blondes with a stiff upper lip and strong sense of justice.<em> Real subtle, Kenobi. </em>He shook his head at himself.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Practice Makes Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you, Ben.”</p>
<p>He had picked one of the blue flowers that grew by the river where she had just kissed him on the mouth for the first time and given the flower to her, along with a smooth stone from the river. A memory stone for her to remember him by, even though it was an ordinary stone and not Force-sensitive.</p>
<p>“<em>Ba'gedet'ye.</em> Did I say that correctly?” Ben looked into Satine’s face with those twinkling puppy dog eyes and that cheeky grin.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes you did. You got the pronunciation and cadence right.”</p>
<p>“All because I have a great teacher. <em>Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?</em>”</p>
<p>Satine was laughing. “Did I teach you that? You sound like a proper warrior when you say that. I can’t imagine you making good on the threat to smack someone in the face, though.”</p>
<p>Ben smiled. “You’re just not aware of some of the things you say. You smack me in the face sometimes, so I had an incentive to learn it, to be prepared. Languages were always one of my best subjects in school. Besides, I have Jedi hearing, remember? When you cuss to yourself in Mando’a I hear you.”</p>
<p>“Oh dear. I can’t secretly say silly things about you then.”</p>
<p>Ben cocked an eyebrow. “What silly things? Do I want to know?”</p>
<p>Satine blushed. “Silly things like how cute you are when you stroke your chin and make that serious expression when I crush harmful insects with my boot, like you’re judging a dance contest. Or silly things like how much I love you.”</p>
<p>He smirked and stroked his chin in an exaggerated manner. “I see. Like the silly things I worry about. Someday, if I survive this, I might be sent to a star system where people kiss on the mouth as a standard greeting and I’ll need to be good at it lest I cause a diplomatic incident. I know you’re good at kissing on the mouth, because I’ve already gotten a demonstration from you. Could you help me, um, practice? Practice makes perfect, you know.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Ben, you naughty <em>di’kut</em>. Of course. Come here. Let me teach Lesson Two.” Satine grabbed his padawan braid and tugged it gently, pulling his face closer to her. Her hand found a convenient handle at the back of his head in the form of the silly nerftail. He closed his eyes and tilted his face to meet hers.</p>
<p>“Hmm, how about some more remedial practice?” Ben was smirking at her. “I can’t be all that good at it yet. I’ve never kissed anyone else before.”</p>
<p>“Neither have I. But I’m half a year older than you and an expert now in the study of kissing you in particular. Practice makes perfect.”</p>
<p>After a few more rounds, Ben smirked again, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. “<em>Ba'gedet'ye.”</em></p>
<p>“Oh, you silly thing!” Satine threw her arms around him and touched her forehead to his. “Adorable <em>di’kut</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mando'a translations:<br/>Ba'gedet'ye..... You're welcome. Used like "bitte" in German<br/>Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod? ..... Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?<br/>di’kut ..... idiot</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Satine carefully closed her jewelry box and put it away for another day. She stroked little Korkie’s hair, thinking of all the times she had stroked his father’s hair in the same way. Whenever he was injured or ill, he liked to lay his head on her lap. She would sing to him and stroke his short padawan cut while he did his best to Force-heal himself. She never truly understood how that worked, but it did not matter. Seeing her <em>cyar’ika</em> in pain was almost unbearable for her, so seeing his body repair itself at an alarming speed was welcome.</p><p>Her only regret was the time she wasted at the beginning of their time together in taking out her frustration, fear, and anger about the war on him. That was not fair at all. And yet, he had not held it against her, consistently showed her understanding, even if his little gestures of intended kindness sometimes missed the mark.</p><p>She had liked him in spite of herself from the very beginning. Why else had she been so comfortable treating him as familiarly as she had? If she saw him again, she would apologize for some of the things she did and said, tell him she had always liked him, but he would grin at her, he would not be angry. He was a good boy, had undoubtedly grown into a good man. In another life, she might have kept him at her side openly as her husband.</p><p>Someday, when both Korkie and Ben found out the truth about their little family, they would be proud of each other. Ben would teach his son the traditional songs for courting and how to be a good man. He would make a good father, and having Master Qui-Gon come along as a grandfather would make little Korkie a very lucky boy.</p><p>She looked up toward the window. Although Ben was most assuredly not looking at the same stars as her, she could think back on their nights in the wilderness, lying on their bare backs on the patchy grass, gazing up at the stars. The gentle lullaby he sang in that velvety tenor voice of his, the frisson of excitement that she pretended was a late-evening chill, she would treasure all of it always.</p><p>“<em>Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum</em>. I’ll always love you, Ben.”</p>
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